


I'll Hold You, My Lady Knight (if i may)

by rachel6141997



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Older Man/Younger Woman, Snapshots, Wyldon-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel6141997/pseuds/rachel6141997
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Keladry keeps surprising Wyldon.<br/>And then he surprises her.</p><p>(A series of 15 snap-shots from Page through to post Protector of the Small)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Hold You, My Lady Knight (if i may)

**Author's Note:**

> I am warning you now, this is not my best work; I haven't written fanfic in a couple years. But for some reason I really like the Kel/Wyldon pairing (Keldon? that just sound awful. Wyladry ain't much better, either...)  
> And I apologize in advance for killing people off. But it furthered the plot. Not that there is much of one, but... well.
> 
> Also, the format means there is lots of gaps, so you have to assume that more happens between the scenes.
> 
> Oh! And I don't have the books on hand, so the quotes aren't exact. Just bear with me, please?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.
> 
> And remember, comments feed the author.

1-

"I fell down, sir." Wyldon stared at Keladry of Mindelan, shocked. He shouldn't have been, of course. It was the time honored excuse (or rather non-excuse) but somehow he hadn't expected it from her. The Girl.

He pressed her. She remained firm. At last, reluctant, he gave her the traditional punishment duty (or perhaps a little more) and let her go.

Shaking his head, he returned to his paperwork.

 

2-

"Look at me, girl." Wyldon's voice was harsher than he meant it to be.

"I'll fall-" the girl whimpered, sick with terror. Wyldon heard snickers and a sudden rage rose up in him. he sent his gaze around like a scythe, and the laughter vanished. Then, as patiently as he could (like when his daughter Margarry had taken fright at the Cavall hounds) he coaxed the Mindelan girl into motion. Pity stirred at her obvious shame (but it would be replaced with a grudging respect at Mindelan's determination to overcome her fear).

 

3-

"I'll do them over, sir." Once again, Wyldon was surprised by Mindelan. He didn't think as single one of the male pages he had trained in 14 years would have been willing to do what she had just offered.

"I wish to gods you'd been a boy, Mindelan," Wyldon said, and immediately regretted it. He couldn't read her expression (he never could), but that didn't mean his words hadn't hurt her.

"I'm sorry, Mindelan," he whispered, when she was gone.

His office offered no reply.

 

4-

"You are the kind of knight I want to be," Staggered, Wyldon looked into the squire's earnest face. How- how could she say that, after all he'd done?

"No. I'm not," he said finally. "But the fact that you think so is the highest compliment I have ever recieved." Mindelan seemed startled by his words- more evidence of his failure. (Had he really given her so little praise?)

He took her advice, about Owen of Jesslaw. Mindelan's loyalty deserved to be recognized, and perhaps it was a way to repay her for trying to make her leave.

 _I was_ wrong. _She is the best thing to come from my time as a training master._

 

5-

"I know you wish I was a boy, but being a girl is more fun." Wyldon shook his head at the giddy Mindelan, smiling faintly.

"You're tilt silly," he rebuked her. But he forbore from correcting her assumption.

Yet later, as his wife and daughters fussed over him in their tent, he was quiet. He glanced at Owen, opened his mouth to ask a question, and stopped.

Mindelan his her thoughts even from her friends. There was no reason why Jesslaw should be able to to set his mind at rest.

So he fretted over those chance words (words that clearly still haunted her), thinking, _And she looks up to me?  
_

 

6-

"I figure I have at least a month before it gets so bad he'll cause a mutiny." Wyldon couldn't help himself. He let out a quiet laugh, lifting his hand to hide his smile. Lady Knight Keladry looked surprised, for an instant, before resuming her usual calm expression. Wyldon only wanted to laugh harder. It was always a revelation, meeting former students outside the training school. He knew he'd been called the Stump, and with good reason. I wouldn't do for students to realize that their fearsome training master actually had a sense of humor.

Now he studied Lady Keladry. She would do well (better than well), he knew. She  _was_ doing well. He could see the light in her eyes as she talked about Haven, her pride at her accomplishments, her yet remaining frustration at being held behind the lines- he felt is as though it it were his own.

Wyldon saw much (too much) of himself in Lady Keladry, and when she was gone, the thought of her continued to haunt him.

 

7-

"I hope you can forgive yourself, because I will  _never_ forgive you." Raoul's anger was nothing compared to Wyldon's own. As the door closed behind Goldenlake's big frame, Wyldon slammed his fists on his desk. It didn't help.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ stupid. _You knew better._

He knew Lady Keladry's friends would follow her, and more than likely his own squire as well, but he wouldn't stop them. They would be useless if he kept them here, anxious, resentful. If he let them go, there was a chance they would come back alive. A chance they would bring Lady Keladry with them.

In the silent watches of the night, he found that he couldn't bear the thought that they might not.

 

8-

"You are a true knight, Keladry of Mindelan," Wyldon said sincerely, and gently kissed her forehead. When he pulled away he saw that her expressionless mask had slipped. For the first time in the nine years he had known her, Wyldon was privy to the full extend of Keladry's emotions. (Confusion, pleasure, surprise.) They were gone in an instant as she mastered herself, but Wyldon felt oddly moved by this unexpected glimpse of the Keladry who could inspire so many to follow her into near certain death.

When he sent her on to meet her friends , he lingered behind, watching.

"Lady Knight," he murmurer, tasting the words. They were not bitter as they had been, but rather spoke of courage, promise, and dedication to the Code. They were good words, and ones he was beginning to realize he would always link with her.

 

9-

"I'm sorry for your grief, my lord." The note was handwritten, plain and unsigned, placed atop a small carved box, and Wyldon's hands shook as he read it. The note slipped from his grasp and settled on Wyldon's deak as he wept.

The grief would come on him suddenly, even a year after Vivenne's death. He hid it well, and most thought he had moved on. But Keladry was practiced enough in masking her emotions to know when someone else was doing the same.

In the box were many different colored river pebbles, all smooth and inscribed with Yamani characters. The folded paper inside explained the custom. The pebbles were mourning stones; the charactered representes the mourner's wishes and feelings for the lost one. On the reverse side of each stone was carved the Yamani version of Vivenne's name. Traditionally, the mourner would scatter the pebbles one by one as he went through life, signifying his grief being released into the Black God's realm.

Wyldon was stunned by the insight and intimacy of the gift. He ran his fingers through the smooth mourning stones, and a small part of the emptiness that has fillled him since his wife's death eased.

He drew out a single stone ( _LONELINESS)_ and let it fall out the open window into the gardens below.

 

10-

"I'm sorry for your grief, my lady," Wyldon said, deliberately echoing her note as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She whirled from the grave, eyes flashing with anger and unshed tears. Then her shoulders slumped.

"We were to be married," she whispered numbly, "Dom and I."

"I know." When she looked at him, he offered her a small velvet bag. She took it, and gasped to see the pile of mourning stones inside. He had ordered them made as soon as he had heard the news.

Keladry's face was still, but her whole body trembled.

"Thank you, my lord."

"It was the least I could do."

"Have you- have you cast your last stone?" Her voice sounded dull. (Wyldon's heart wrenched)

"No- not yet. I do not know if I'll ever be able to." She looked at him then.

"N-neither do I," she said- then her face crumpled. He held her awkwardly as she sobbed into his shoulder. After a time, however, she relaxed into his embrace, and when she finally stopped crying she made no move to leave his arms.

"It does become easier," he said at last. "You will never forget- but it  _will_ become easier. Perhaps you will even find love again." At this she pulled back and looked him in the eye.

"And have  _you_ found love, my Lord Wyldon?"  He looked at her, and thought,  _Perhaps_. _  
_

"Not yet," he said finally. "But perhaps in days to come."

She thanked him and bade farewell, and when she was gone he took out the last mourning stone and placed it on Domitan's headstone.

"Rest in peace, soldier," he said, and left the grave behind. (with  _LOVE_ )

 

11-

"I haven't tilted against you since I was a squire, Lord Wyldon." Keladry's voice was warm, and there was a hint of a smile about her mouth. Wyldon raised his eyebrows.

"AS I recall, last time I knocked you tilt-silly," he remarked. "I hadn't imagined you would wish to repeat the experience." The smile turned to a grin.

"Well, I was rather hoping to return the favor," she confided in a low whisper, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Very well. You may try- on one condition. If I win you must call me Wyldon."

"And if you lose," she said, daring him. He smiled faintly

"Then, of course, it is your choice."

An hour later Wyldon found himself in the mud, to the shock of all the court, and little as he cared to admit it, himself. Keladry, grinning, dismounted and offered him a hand up.

"I must admit, I didn't think I'd lose," he murmured, as she pulled him to his feet.

"I have been practicing for this," she confessed. He laughed.

"My overconfidence in duly rewarded. I forgot that just because I haven't been unseated in twenty years it couldn't happen now."

"I trust you won't forget again, Wyldon." He looked at her in surprise. She smiled. "You may have lost our wager, but I feel I have earned the right now."

"You most certainly have," he replied gravely, and bowed, mudstreaks and all.

He was a little tilt-silly. (Or perhaps she always did this to him, tilting or no)

 

12-

"You look bored." Wyldon turned to see Keladry standing beside him, shining in a golden dress that brought out the highlights in her eyes.

"I thought I was hiding it fairly well," he replied ruefully. She grinned.

"You were, all things considered. But I could feel that same bland expression on my own face." He raised his eyebrows.

"Then why stay?"

"Well, normally, I would be with Raoul, Buri, Neal, Owen and the others, having one of our little tactics parties, but His Majesty declared that for tonight, none of us would be escaping our social duties." She grimaced, and Wyldon chuckled.

"It  _is_ the celebration for the birth of his first grandson," he reminded her.

"I know, and I am delighted for Roald and Shinkokami, but I'm also bored to tears."

"And here I thought my company was interesting," he teased, deadpan.

"Now so you'd let anyone know," she said tartly. "I've been carrying the weight of our conversation so far."

"Forgive me," Wyldon said. "I shall endeavor to do better. Would you care to dance?"

 

He could see he had startled her, but she allowed him to lead her away from the wall and out onto the dance floor.

"I didn't know you could dance, Wyldon," she said at last, as they spun and circled among other nobles. He could see a few of them glance at him and Keladry in surprise and interest. He didn't care, but smiled at Keladry.

"i was a page once too, you know," he reminded her, and she blushed. Suddenly she began to laugh.

"I-I just realized why Lady Alanna never dances," she managed, at his quizzical glance. "She would have learned all the steps as a boy!" He stared at her for a moment, then began to laugh as well.

 

He spent the evening with Keladry. She often made him laugh, but he liked it best when he could return the favor. When Keladry was amused, her face went still for a moment- then the mask split into a wide grin and a musical laugh.

Wyldon discovered he loved the sound of her laughing.

 

13-

"Keladry, why are you hiding your feelings from me?" Wyldon had begun to notice it a few months ago. more and more often, she wore her expressionless mask around him, and it had become very difficult to make her laugh out loud. Now, as they stood on a palace balcony in the chill of an autumn night, she looked away. "Keladry," he said again gently. "Look at me, girl." With a shudder she met his gaze, and he saw the tears in her eyes.

"I don't want to lie to you," she whispered.

"Then don't," he said simply. She half laughed, breathily.

"I can't tell you the truth either." Despite himself, Wyldon was hurt. He tried to hide it, but he knew Keladry had seen it from the way she flinched.

"Very well," he said gruffly. "Keep your silence." And he walked away, though his chest ached and his ears roared and his eyes burned.

 

14-

"I would speak with you, my lord," a cold voice came from his study door. Wyldon looked up to see Nealon of Queenscove, icy and aloof.

"What is it, Queenscove?" he asked wearily. "I'm busy." That was a lie. He'd been staring blankly at the same line of a report he was supposed to be writing for well over an hour.

"It's about Kel." Wyldon felt suddenly sick. He picked up his quill. _  
_

"What about her?"

"You love her." It wasn't a question. Wyldon looked Queenscove in the eyes for the first time since he'd come in.

"I assure you," he said evenly. "That regardless about how I feel concerning Keladry, I would never act-"

"That is precisely the problem!" Neal snapped angrily, his frustration evident. "You two and your thrice-damned  _honor_ \- you'd never dare to actually  _talk_ about your feelings. No, you just sit in misery for no good reason. I don't give a damn, my lord, if you are miserable, but I won't have Kel unhappy." Wyldon stared at Queenscove, uncomprehending, his quill poised to dip into the ink. The younger knight sighed.

"She  _loves_ you, my lord, though only the gods know why. And you'd best do something about it." When Queenscove's words sunk in, Wyldon knocked over the inkwell in shock. He stared at the puddle of ink as it spread across the report he'd been writing.  _She... loves me?_

No. Queenscove was wrong. But Wyldon couldn't quite crush the wild hope that had soared in his chest for an instant.

"I would have thought four years with the Lioness would have erased some of that cynicism, Nealon," he said mildly. For an instant, Wyldon thought Queenscove would have an apoplexy. But the knight took several deep breaths.

"She tried, my lord," he said, and stalked out of the room. Then he stuck his back in for a moment, and said cheekily, "Just think. You, Kel, Margarry and Owen- you could have a double wedding. It would be... jolly."

The impudent boy ducked out just in time to avoid the empty inkwell, which shattered on the wall outside.

 

15-

"Keladry, are you in love with me?" Queenscove's words had haunted Wyldon, until finally he'd caught her alone in a hallway, capturing her hands in his as she tried to hurry past. She stared at him, eyes wide, and the color drained from her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but he hushed her.

"Don't lie to me." She flushed.

"I- I- yesI'minlovewithyou," she said all in a rush, looking down. He gently lifted her face until their eyes met. She was terrified, he saw.

"Good," he whispered, and kissed her as sweetly as he knew how. When he pulled away, she was stunned.

"But- why? I'm nothing like Lady- like a proper lady-" she stammered, and he stopped the flow of words with another kiss.

"You," he said huskily, when he finished, "are everything like a proper lady knight, and I love you."

She locked her gaze with his, and asked fiercely, "Truly?"

He cradled her face in his hands, and with equal fierceness replied, "Truly. Truly I love you, my Lady Knight." He could see her feelings now, her expressionless mask stripped away. (Fear, trust, wonder... love.)

He took a deep breath, and this time, when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Well THAT was fun... now for a few notes on my thoughts, apologies, and disclaimers :)
> 
> Sorry if the parentheses things bothered you, it was an experiment.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: even though Yamani culture is based off of Japanese, the mourning stones are totally my own invention, with no offense meant towards the real culture and its people.
> 
> And I am really sorry about killing off Dom, but I needed a way for Wyldon to show Kel his appreciation of her gift. I also didn't feel like Wyldon would call Kel by her nickname; he would be her one friend who stuck to calling her Keladry. Finally, I originally wrote the scene with Neal using Owen instead, but I felt it had more poignancy if Neal, who dislike Wyldon, was the impetus for their relationship, because he didn't want Kel to be sad. I loved the jolly quote too much to let go, so I stuck it in as Neal's tribute to Owen. :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! :)  
> [comment please comment please comment please comments feed the author and i am hungry comment please]


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